


Black and Deep Desires

by Anonymous_Kumquat



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 19th Century, F/M, Maids, Mild Language, Obsession, Obsessive Love, One Shot, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Yandere, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Kumquat/pseuds/Anonymous_Kumquat
Summary: (Yandere!Alois Trancy x Female Reader)The death of your father put your family in a precarious financial situation. To support your family, you become a maid. In hindsight, though, you wish you had never stepped foot in that manor...





	1. Chapter 1

The death of your father abruptly startled the routine of your life out of its flow. First came the shock. No one could believe he was gone; the man was so lively and far from the waning years of his life, people had remarked. He was a self-made man with a charm that drew people to him. He was unceremoniously struck by a carriage on a beautiful Sunday morning. His absence felt surreal, and you half believed he would wake up at any moment. You yearned for him to tell you his death was just a farce.

 

The shock had subsided, and in its absence, grief had filled its place.

 

Grief came and hung over the house: a thick black fog that clouded the senses and filled the air with an unquantifiable weight. Black crepe dresses and opaque veils were bought and worn, and there was an unspoken agreement for everyone in your family to keep to themselves and to wallow in their own misery. Everyone’s mind was far from the corporeal world.

 

Eventually, the weight of reality had sunk in. Your eldest brother took his newly acquired fortune and left. He would have no problems: he was a young and handsome bachelor, and he found himself a nice piece of property with his new means. That left him plenty of money to indulge in all his vices: a new harlot every other week, and acquaintances with all the gentlemen at the bar where he would undoubtedly spend much time. In his stead, there was a meager fund for your family that was dwindling at a dangerous rate. Drastic action needed to be taken so as not to ruin the remaining money. The servants were dismissed, belongings were sold, expenses were cut, meals were meager. It could not be avoided, everyone had to find work. With your fortunate mastery of feminine skills and literacy, less savory labor could be avoided. You wouldn’t find employment at the workhouses if you had any say in the matter. You would be a maid.

 

The periodicals usually had notices for the want of a maid, but this time they were barren, so you sent notices of your own. Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long for a response. Only a few days after you sent your notice, a reply had been sent for you in the post. Your heart pounded, your fingers clumsily fumbling with the envelope as you tore it open. There was a position at the manor of a Mr. Trancy for the services of a maid, signed by a Mr. Faustus. The handwriting was eloquent, the response proper and polite. You nearly upturned your inkwell in your haste to write back.

 

In your haste to find work, all thoughts of loneliness and homesickness left you. The feelings you evaded in your anticipation of employment hit you with twice the impact the day of your departure. The day had taken far too long to arrive, but now that it had come, it all was passing too quickly.

 

“When will you come back?” asked your little brother, eyes shining with unspilled tears. His voice trembled.

 

“Oh, shh…” Your voice was shaky. Kneeling down you embraced him tightly. Pulling back, you smoothed his hair and caressed his face. You didn’t want to leave, not at a time like this. You forced yourself to remember what you were doing this for, otherwise, you knew your feet would not take you away from the people you needed most—and the ones that needed you most.

 

“I’ll come and visit as often as I can.” You promised vaguely, not wanting to think about the indefinite duration of your stay.

 

Standing back to your full height, you embraced your younger sister and mother.

 

“I’ll write as often as I can.” You swore earnestly.

 

You boarded the coach, waving at the tear-streaked faces of your siblings and mother until their faces were no longer visible, until their figures blurred with one another, until they were a speck in the distance, until they no longer were distinguishable from surrounding landscape.

 

You speculated upon the appearances of Mr. Faustus and Mr. Trancy. Was he a handsome man? Did he have a dark or light complexion? Was Mr. Trancy an old man mellow with the experience of life? Was he a young and reckless man impassioned with the fire of youth? None of it mattered, but it gave your mind minutia to think about that distracted you from the emptiness.

 

You considered your new life as a maid. As you thought, rain began to drizzle, the rain thickened into a heavy hammer. Rising anticipation and excitement grew in you. Leaving your family was hard and painful, but the idea of turning a fresh page and starting a new chapter was thrilling. You felt clear and free of your past. You were excited at the prospect of a change in pace, eager to make space for new writing.

 

The ride lulled you into physical relaxation, but every passing minute brought an increasing feeling of dread and queasiness. The manor came in sight and each minute passed too quickly. Soon, you were stepping out of the coach with your belongings. The driver, upon being paid the appropriate fee, had driven off. The manor stretched in front of you—it was a handsome building, larger than any you had ever seen. Its walls were a sandy tan color complimented with a desaturated blue. Well-manicured shrubbery and pathways greeted you. You stood at the front door staring at the knocker, taking deep breaths that did nothing to stop the hammering of your heart. You knocked.

 

You hardly had time to collect your thoughts before the door was opened. A tall, stern-looking man greeted you. Your breath nearly hitched at his unusual appearance. He looked a perfectly fine—and rather handsome—gentleman at first glance. What nearly robbed you of your breath were his sharp _yellow_ eyes. You weren’t sure whether to call them fascinating or horrifying.  


“I presume you are the Ms. (L/N) that we are expecting.”

 

“Oh, uh, yes, that would be me.” You said, fumbling with your words a bit before finding your composure.

 

“Welcome to the Trancy manor. Come inside.” The man spoke formulaically as though the conversation was just a part of a rehearsed speech he had run through many times.

 

You stepped inside, slightly damp from the rain.  


 

“I will take your bag,” he offered. You thanked him and handed him your bag.

 

As he lead you to your room, he gave a brief tour of the manor. You were pleasantly surprised to discover you had a whole room to yourself.

 

The man set the luggage down in your room. “You have the rest of the day off to be acquainted with your surroundings, your work starts tomorrow in the morning. I am Claude Faustus and I shall be the one overseeing your work.” He spoke with a monotone voice, “I will come by promptly after sunrise. Please be dressed and proper before then. I shall take my leave now . I will see you in the morning,” and with that, he nodded curtly and closed the door behind him.

 

Your room was a dull and lifeless white color. You felt the bed: the mattress was hard. The duvet was thinner than you were used to.

 

You went to sit by the window overlooking the impressive gardens the mansion offered, drawing back the curtains to take in the landscape. The sky was gray and cloudy. Your heart sank.   


 

The rain drizzled down in a bleary haze.

  
You could not help but be off-put by your new situation; your previous excitement peeling away. God, you missed your family so much. Your eyes watered, but you quickly wiped away the tears with your handkerchief. More took their place, and you slowly descended into quiet sobbing in the silent room. The only sound was of the rain outside as the Earth cried with you.

 

—————————

 

That night was one of the most uncomfortable nights of your life. You shivered under the ragged duvet in the cold night. Your extremities were ice, and your cotton nightgown hardly kept you warm. You ended up wrapping your wool shawl around you and piling several linen and wool stockings on your feet. You completed the awkward ensemble with your daytime petticoats. With the biting cold ameliorated, you began to notice the stiffness of the mattress and the thin pillow. No matter which way you turned, it became no less comfortable. It was a fitful rest; you fell in and out of dreamless sleep. When the first rays of sunlight came to alleviate you from your slumber, you woke up with a sore back and tender neck. 

 

You dressed and put your hair up. You had just finished securing your cap when you heard a loud rapping on your door.

 

“Good morning,” the butler greeted with his monotone voice, “Your duties in the Trancy manor will differ by day, given your notice stated you were a maid of all work.” He began walking. You followed. “Every morning please see to it that the all the rooms—save the master’s—are swept and that a fire has been started in each room after sweeping clean the grate. Afterwards, cook the master’s breakfast. I shall be checking on your work. I trust you know how to do everything…” his eyes bored into you expectantly, and you nodded hastily. “I shall see whether that is so for myself.”

 

He paused.

 

“You know your duties, see to them.” So you did, scrambling away.

 

—————————

 

You shivered at the feel of the cold biting into your skin, your eyes laden with grogginess. You stooped by the hearth and swept the ashes from under the fire grate and into the dustpan. The work gave you reprieve from your emotions, but not from the cold. Your toes still felt frigid under the thin leather skin of the boot in spite of the layers of stockings and the blazing fire. Your fingers were ice as well.

 

A life of governesses and good grace did little prepare you for a life of labor. You grumbled hateful words under your breath as you knocked over the dustpan with your broom. You never realized how much of your easeful life you had taken for granted until now. So badly you wanted everything back. Your eyes watered. You had lost so much.

 

You didn’t notice Faustus was observing your work until he spoke, “Your progress so far is disappointing. You haven’t swept under the rugs, and your overall work is sloppy. After sweeping this room, I expect you to correct your mistakes.” With that, he turned and left.

 

You sniffed. Anger boiled up in you, “My work is only as sloppy as your personality,” you mumbled to yourself after he was out of earshot, clutching the broom handle tightly.

 

When you had finally finished with the blasted sweeping, you were sorely tired and wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and have breakfast delivered to you.

 

“That took you far too long, you must hurry and start the master’s breakfast now.” He stared at you expressionlessly, with a hint of disappointment in his voice. You had never had the misfortune of meeting anyone more disagreeable, you swore to yourself.

 

You praised Lady Luck for having another maid to help you—Hannah was her name—and she had far more experience in the work. She quickly took control upon seeing your inability and gave you instruction. She was reserved, poised, and far more tolerable than Claude Faustus.

 

As a reward for your efforts, you received your breakfast. It was unappealing at best: a piece of hard, stale bread with a wedge of butter. You begrudgingly shoved it down your throat.

 

Your brief respite was over when your overseer tasked you with scrubbing linens with Hannah. She wasn’t one for conversation and opted to give you short responses to your questions. You were slightly off-put by her curtness. You wouldn’t bother her with conversation, but there was a burning curiosity inside you that wouldn’t leave you alone…

 

“Hannah, where are the other servants?”

 

She looked up at you.

 

“I haven’t seen anyone working, well, besides you and Mr. Faustus.”

 

She turned her attention back to the linens, “Mr. Faustus is attending to the master and the triplets are polishing the floors, I believe.”

 

“Is there no one else working here?”

 

“We have always been able to make do with our numbers in running the manor, but we were in want of more help recently. I presume that is why Mr. Faustus hired you.”

 

_Only six servants?_  “I see.” You responded. The rest of the work was passed in silence, save the sound of brushes in friction with linen.

 

That night, you experienced exhaustion as you had never known it before. Your back and arms were sore and your hands were grimy. You collapsed onto the bed. The hard mattress felt particularly soft, and the bed particularly warm. A cold and empty feeling ached inside of you.

 

You turned over in your bed. It was only your first day, but you were already tired of being a maid. You turned to look at the ceiling, feeling drowsy, and fell asleep to the sound of the cold wind whistling outside.

 

—————————

 

Time passed, as it is apt to. Days blended into each other. Weeks flowed by. Had it been a month since you first came here? Maybe multiple months? You thought over it, but keeping track of the time would drive you to insanity. Days became more bearable to get through when you couldn’t tell them apart. You had become acclimated to your chores; they became routine. Routine gave you comfort in a lackluster and hard life.

 

Rest. You wish you had it.

 

You woke up before dawn and went to sleep well after sun fall. The master usually went to bed at midnight. It was a time you looked forward to; it meant that you would be able to go to bed soon. You scrubbed dishes, cleaned hearths, and dusted furniture late into the night. Want of rest did strange things to your brain. Your mind felt like thick, fluffy cotton; it was hard for you to recall much or think of anything in general. You were sometimes overwhelmed with such intense melancholy that you felt you bore all the sadness of the world. And, not to mention, you often felt yourself dozing off in the middle of work. You accredited it to your youthfulness that you were able to manage at all.

 

You did your work in silence, no noise or commotion that indicated life came from the manor, except from your own work. It felt surreal and disturbing, like no one else was alive. The eerie silence was only exacerbated by the few servants working in it. You couldn’t understand how six servants could run a manor. Six servants may have sufficed in a humbler estate, but a manor of this magnitude simply could not be sustained with the number of servants that there were. Yet, at the end of each day, you found what should have taken a far larger staff of servants to do accomplished by merely the six of you. It wasn’t as if the master lacked funds to hire more staff either. If he could afford a manor of this size, he could spare some money to hire more servants.

 

Far stranger things have happened, you reconciled with yourself. It wasn’t like you didn’t have bigger concerns like the lack of food in your stomach, or the pale and haggard person you saw reflected back when cleaning the windows, or perhaps that you never got any rest.

 

Working in constant solitude made you ache for the presence of others. Someone other than the only person you regularly interacted with was Mr. Faustus.

 

Mr. Faustus. You savored imagining him being chewed in the maws of the devil.  


 

“Time is wasting, you should have had that done long ago.”

 

“Your work is sloppy and inadequate. Do it again with thoroughness.”

 

“Ms. (L/N), your work ethic leaves much to be desired.”

  
_Sorry for missing a spot on the handle, Mr. Faustus, I know it devastates you so to have nothing else better to look for in your life_ , you comforted yourself with such scathing thoughts. Whenever you had taken shortcuts, he seemed to spring from nowhere and reprimand you. He was like an annoying spirit that drifted through the manor looking for any work short of perfection.

 

Nothing more needed to be said about Mr. Faustus, for your own sake.

 

Sleep, the only repast in these awful times often evaded you. Be it the rock of a mattress you slept on, the ragged sheets, the paper-thin pillow, or the aching for your home and family—it didn’t matter, the effect was all the same. On such nights when you felt like crying—yearning to be embraced by your family; yearning to talk with someone who wasn’t your damned overseer; yearning to hold another human being, you looked at the moon. It brought some ease to your heart that it was the same moon your family looked at, and maybe they would think about you while doing so.

 

The highlights of your week, of your month, came on Sundays when you had part of the day off. You treasured the time when you could write to your family, eagerly anticipating their replies. You hid their letters in your pillowcase and read one every night. It gave you something to look forward to in your life at the Trancy estate.

 

—————————

 

To-day was the same as any other day, you couldn't recall when, all days felt like blurred continuations of the previous.

 

The linens had just finished airing out in the sunny outdoor air. It was a perfect day for drying linens, and being alive had a particularly rosy glow this day. Maybe it was the optimistic rays of the sun that beamed down on you. Maybe it was the light breeze that had danced around in a playful game of tag.

 

Either way, it was a day that was particularly nicer than other days.

 

You unclipped the linens from the clothespins, gathering them in a basket to be folded. You stalled a bit: the warm sun felt so good. The smell of the fresh air was a miracle to the soul after being cooped up in such a dreary environment.

 

When would you get out of here?

 

You walked down the hall, enjoying the feeling of your shoes against the plush carpeting.

 

Your wages were minimal. You barely earned enough as it was. It was scarcely enough to support your family and leave some left-over money for yourself. What would you do afterward? You couldn't relax idly and depend on your family's wages. Your financial situation was tight, and it couldn't take your full burden as well. 

 

You started out of your thoughts as you heard an irritated voice resound from the adjoining hallway, approaching your whereabouts.

 

"You're so useless, Claude!"

 

The voice was approaching, "The whole lot of you make me sick,” the voice said, in a lower tone, brimming with disgust.

 

The speaker rounded the corner, and you finally got a look at him. His hair was a faded blonde color. He was fairly tall. Faustus trailed behind him. It didn't take you very long to realize that this was the master of the house. His exorbitant manner of dress spoke multitudes about his status. You nearly gaped at how much he contrasted from your expectation of him.

 

Hastily, you dropped a curtsey before continuing on your way, clinging to the wall as you walked past. You trained your eyes to the ground. Faustus had kindly reminded you that a servant was not to be seen or heard. You didn’t exist, he said, and if your presence interfered with the master, there would be consequences. Of course, there were always consequences. It seemed that existing had the unfortunate consequence of you being hounded on by Faustus.

 

"Hey, you—maid,” the blonde called out to you, "come back here."

 

You retraced your path, a bad feeling in your gut.

 

"Claude, who is this?" the blonde, Mr. Trancy, you presumed, queried.

 

You glimpsed at the blonde's face. He had a youthful face, but his eyes were what stood out most. Large, but most shockingly, a pure light blue. You had never seen any eyes like it. Immediately, you averted your eyes to the ground.

 

“She is a maid that has been recently staffed, your Highness," Claude responded while giving you a cold gaze you chose to ignore. You felt exasperated already imagining the stern lecture he would give you later.

 

"A new maid? How come you didn't tell me?!” Trancy exclaimed, excitement shining through his voice.

 

"I didn't think it was important enough to bother your Highness with,” Claude replied apathetically.

 

Trancy ignored him and turned his attention toward you.

 

"What's your name, maid?" he asked innocently.

 

"(Y/N) (L/N), sir." you responded, trying to sound as polite as possible. The blonde put you on edge; he shifted from irritated to excited so rapidly. He must have been full of himself if he asked his servants to call him “Your Highness". Oh! Were you supposed to call him that? The hot prickling feeling of anxiety trickled down your neck.

 

"(Y/N), huh?" he giggled, brightening, "you're relieved of your chores. Claude will take care of them, come play with me, (Y/N)!"

 

_ What? _

 

"Your Highness-"

 

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion, Claude." Trancy's voice lowered.

 

Your feelings were confirmed, there was something wrong with Trancy. But before you could process anything further, the basket in your hand was taken away, and you did not miss the butler’s signature cold glare. The blonde giggled giddily before grabbing your wrist and speeding off. You ran clumsily in tow.

 

—————————

 

You were eager to get out of this place, only the thin inhibition of financial security prevented you from marching out, a good reference would be a bonus, but not being treated as a sewer rat or plaything would provide all the relief you could need.

 

You tucked your wages into your pillowcase. It wasn't a luxury, but it would have to do for now, and if you struck lucky, you could leave soon. In your correspondence back home, a potential opportunity for the position of a seamstress was being discussed. You had agreed to fill the part if and when the time eventually came. It would be a family business, and you couldn't be more thrilled at the prospect of returning home.

 

You sighed as you sat on the creaky bed, rubbing your sore feet. The blonde, Trancy, had dragged you around his manor trying to play various games with you. Needless to say, you tried your best to help him win, and humor the temperamental blonde. He most definitely didn't seem the type to handle loss in a mature fashion. He was quite bubbly and giggly and got some kind of childish satisfaction from playing infantile games with you.

 

You tucked yourself into your bedsheets and passed out.

 

———————

 

The next day, followed in the same steps as the first. Upon starting your work, you were interrupted by the energetic blonde wanting to play games with you.

  
You heard him call your name giddily from behind as he dashed towards you. 

 

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed, slowing to a halt, as you turned to face him. You bobbed a brief curtsey.

 

“Come on, let’s play together!” He looked at the broom in your hand, frowning, “you won’t need that.” He snatched it from your hand and tossed it to the side before seizing your hands. His impropriety nearly offended you.

 

“Sir, who shall take care of—“

 

“Claude or one of the other servants can take care of it. Claude!” He called. You turned your head and nearly jumped. How did he—

 

“Take care of (Y/N)’s chores.” With that, he sped off, not giving you a moment’s break.

 

During one of the many board games he engaged you to play with him, he remarked while laughing about his victory, "You know, I like you, (Y/N). You're so fun to play with! You don't make me feel bored. I don't know how you do it!" He continued laughing, joyfully, “Let’s play again!”

  
So you played again. He won again.

 

He giggled, pushing the game board aside and laying his head on your lap. The game pieces toppled atop one another. You sat motionless, unsure of what to do. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was a smile on his face.

 

You had to get him off before someone saw you and decided to spread rumors—

 

A knock resounded on the wooden door before it opened. It was Faustus, your stomach fell. Upon seeing Trancy and you, his eyes narrowed. It was just your luck, the last thing you needed was being called the master’s whore by the butler.

 

“Your Highness, you have duties on your schedule that must be attended to.”

 

"I don't want to!" he scowled, his eyes snapping open. "Can't you see, Claude, that I'm having fun right now? I don't want to be disturbed!"

 

He turned on his stomach, laying his head to the side, "I hate dealing with those people. The only reason they talk to me is so that they can get their greedy hands on my fortune." he remarked dully and quietly. He had a vacant look in his eyes, his hands latched onto fistfuls of your dress.

 

"Your Highness, there will be time for you to do as you wish later, but right now you have duties to attend to."

 

This cheered him a bit, enough to motivate him to do what he had to, leaving you to return back to your work.

 

“I can’t wait to play with you again, (Y/N)!” He said before he left.

 

—————————

 

Time stretched on, and Trancy's desire to play games with you became routine. Every day, he would seek you out and drag you with him to play games as soon as it became possible.

 

You didn’t dislike him. He treated you with the decency of a person, it gave you a warmth to be treated nicely and valued. You could overlook his improper manner.

 

He made you curious. How did he acquire such a large fortune? Was it through inheritance? Where was his family? The thoughts nagged at you, but you wouldn’t dare ask him. It wasn’t your place to ask questions.

 

Mr. Trancy must have really taken a liking to you. He came searching for you quite frequently and didn’t release you to your duties until Faustus came to remind him of his obligations. Eventually, your whole work schedule was shifted. You served him his refreshments, and then his meals. You began taking his letters to him and then waiting on him during meal times. Eventually, you started answering all his calls for service.

 

You had taken over Faustus’s role for nearly everything.

 

He had a propensity for talking. He spilled everything he was thinking with a carelessness that would get him in trouble one day. He liked being listened to. He also liked being acknowledged; he became antsy and irritated when you didn’t give him signs of attention every so often. Your wit always saved you, thankfully, and it became clear that he was a person that would require your wit to spare you from his wrath.

 

It became apparent shortly after you started waiting on his meals. On one particular day when Hannah came in serving the food, he appeared bored, so he took it out on her. He didn’t have much of a reason to slap her, push her, or pull at her hair, but he didn't much need one. No one would be checking on her in so remote an area as where the manor was located. A sick and fearful feeling settled in your stomach, and you instantly felt on edge. You didn’t feel any better after he dismissed her. She walked out as quick as she could, shaking.

 

Being in the presence of someone so temperamental was dangerous. It was worth it though, you had to remind yourself. Being in the master’s favor benefitted you greatly: less gritty and unsavory work, not being the under the constant scrutiny of your scum of an overseer, and having some amount power. Having favor made you feel powerful and in control.

 

—————————

 

Then the news came: the seamstress position had finally come to fruition. You were elated, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face for a long time after reading the letter from your mother. When you could finally wipe the grin off your face, you went to tell Faustus of your resignation. 

 

He stared blankly at you.

 

“Very well, when do you plan on leaving?”

 

“As soon as possible,” you responded firmly.

 

“You may depart as early as you would like.”

 

“How about tomorrow?” You asked.

 

He was silent for a moment. “Yes, that should be fine.”

 

You were surprised at how indifferent he was. Wouldn’t it take time to find a replacement for you?

 

The next day, you gathered your belongings and tucked your wages away discreetly. You intended to go by foot until you could reach the nearest town, and then pay a coach to take you the rest of the way.

 

Well, those were your intentions.

 

"(Y/N)!" a voice you recognized all too well called. "Where have you been? You've kept me waiting for so long! Have you forgotten your duties, maid!?" He was clearly pissed.

 

You turned around and confirmed it with your eyes. A deeply embedded scowl was on his face as he approached you. But as soon as he saw you dressed in your traveling attire and your bag in hand, his scowl dropped and was replaced with a wide-eyed fearful expression.

 

"What are you doing? Where are you going!?" He yelled, but any anger dissipated and was replaced with fear.

 

"I'm leaving, Mr. Trancy." He made no movements and said nothing. His eyes widened. "My apologies for the short notice, but-“

 

"No!" he shouted, falling to his knees. His head was turned downward and his form shook, and his palms barely supported him.

 

You were taken aback by his intense display of emotion.

 

"Sir, are you alright?" you queried cautiously.

 

He mumbled something too quiet to hear.

 

"Would you like me to get one of the servants to help you?" you tried again, cautiously still. "I just saw Mr. Faustus not too long ago." You looked around trying to see if you could spot him. Trancy continued to lay quivering on the floor.

 

"I shall go fetch him," you stated.

 

"You can't leave me..." He murmured lowly, his voice was shaky. You paused, turning to look at him."Not after him...not you too..."

 

_ Him? What is he talking about? _

 

"I-"

 

"You can't leave me!" he cried again, much louder, his head flung up, and his eyes met yours, large and fearful. Tears dripped from his wide eyes rapidly.

 

"Why would you do this to me!? First him, now you!" Tears continued to dribble out of his eyes.

 

You were shocked speechless.

 

"Not you too, (Y/N)...please don't go!" He sobbed, crawling towards you.

 

"Is it money that you want?" he continued inching across the floor until he was at your feet. His tears dripped on your shoe like raindrops.

 

"I'm rich. I can give you all the money you could ever need..." he clutched onto you desperately.

 

"Just don't leave me...I couldn't live without you..." He buried his face into the skirt of your dress. You tried to extrapolate him off of you, but he clutched you with a grip of steel.

 

“I need you…Don’t you love me? Was…” he came to some revelation, “was everything just an act? Were you just trying to manipulate me like everyone else?!” He was angry now, yelling at you.

 

_Love him? What is he talking about? Has he deluded himself?_ You were tired of him and sorely wanted to leave. “You…you whore!” He screeched, pushing you. You stumbled backward and he collapsed to the floor again, shaking with rage likely.

 

“How dare you manipulate me like that, you…you piece of shit! You’ll never amount to anything in the world, you scum! I don’t want to ever look at you again!” He screamed, hurling abuse at you. His eyes were hard and face contorted with anger.

 

A hot and fiery monster roared in you. You had suffered enough abuse and demeaning in this goddamned place.

 

“This ‘piece of shit’ will remove itself from your sight with pleasure. I won’t miss this place.” You sneered coldly down at him. You snatched your bag off of the floor, which you had dropped when he shoved you, and made your way to the door. “Goodbye and good riddance.”

  
“No, wait…” he said weakly, anger dissipating to fear at the threat of you actually following through with your words. “You aren’t allowed to leave; I won’t let you!” He said more fiercely.

 

You ignored him. Why the hell did he think he had the right to make demands about where you went? You weren’t his property, and refused to be treated as such. 

 

“Don’t go, please don’t go.” He whimpered. “Claude! Claude! You worthless demon, where are you?! I order you: don’t let her leave!”

 

You quickened your pace, uneasy. _Demon? Is he involved in some sort of black magic or witchcraft? All the more the reason to leave as quickly as possible._

 

“CLAUDE!” He called desperately.

 

In the blink of an eye, the form of your old overseer barred your path.

 

_Oh my God_ , you stumbled backward, nearly dropping your bag in fright.

 

"My master's word is my command. I cannot allow you to leave."

 

“How did you—“ His eyes…they glowed. Liquid fuchsia swirled in his irises. You were dumbfounded and merely gaped at him. After a few seconds, all the fear flooded you at once. Your blood curdled, your heart palpitated out of control, and your hands shook. You tumbled backward and screamed.

 

“Claude is a demon,” Trancy explained after you ceased your screaming. He sounded as if he was showing you a neat trinket. You spun around. He looked awfully smug. “He has to obey me.” His face grew solemn, “And so will you. You aren’t allowed to leave me.”

 

Fear and sensibility quickly doused any of your fighting spirit. Trancy was clearly deranged and meant every word he said. The idea that he might be capable of following through with his threats frightened you to death.

 

“Mr. Trancy—“

  
“Don’t call me that!” He screamed out, “I’m not the same as that dirty old man!” He breathed heavily, “My name is Alois.”

 

“Alright, Alois…I understand that you must be feeling lonely…” you observed his reactions closely. He was still breathing heavily, but he didn’t deny what you said. “I understand how awful it must feel, but you have to let me go, Alois. I don’t believe that you are thinking clearly, and—“

 

“I know what you’re doing; you’re trying to leave me! Stop lying! You don’t care about me! You just wanted my money, just like everyone else…” he trailed off, his anger calming into melancholy. His hair covered his eyes. His mood was all over the place, and you couldn’t keep up. Was he angry or sad?

 

“Staying here, being with me…it won’t be so bad…” he peered at you with a gentler look in his eyes. “You won’t have to work…everything you need will be taken care of.”

 

You shook your head and backed away.

 

“You’re crazy,” you accused. You had to get out of here, he was living in his own fantasy, and you didn’t want to be a part of it.

 

Turning on your heel, you ran off into the manor. You weren’t sure where you were going, but you were dealing with someone who wouldn’t listen to reason: someone who was impulsive and dangerous.

 

He called, “Oh are we playing hide-and-seek?” His mood had shifted again. He sounded happy, too happy. He giggled, “This will be so much fun! Since I’m feeling inclined to be generous, I will give you a minute-long head start.”

 

“1,”

 

“2,”

 

“3…”

 

His voice faded as you scurried down the many corridors. You did have one advantage: you had a general familiarity with the layout of the manor. You could use that to your advantage.

 

Out of breath, you paused. Adrenaline coursed through you and screamed at you to continue running, somewhere, anywhere.

 

_Think. Think. THINK!_  Your mind screamed, and your heart thumped. You drew shallow breaths.

 

How could you get out?  _Hurry, HURRY._

 

An idea dawned on you: the door wasn’t the only way out of this manor.  _I can escape through the windows!_

 

Your legs set to running more than you ever had, and ever needed to you in your whole life. You ran as your life depended on it, and it did, to the furthest part of the east wing. Your instinct screamed at you to put distance between the two of you, and you were never happier to obey. You were eager to be as far away from the lunatic as possible.

 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N), wherever could you be?” A childishly mocking voice queried a few turns behind you.

 

Your heart stopped a beat…how could he catch up with you that fast?! You could hear your heart pumping in your ears, it pumped so loudly that you briefly worried it would snitch you out. You opened the door to the nearest room beside you as stealthily as you could. The wood groaned quietly as you cautiously pushed it open. _Damn_ , you cursed to yourself, internally screaming.

 

“Oh? Whatever could that be?” Alois sounded positively thrilled.

 

You shut the door silently and quickly assessed the room. It was a bedroom: a master bedroom. There was a large brass bed dripping with drapes and pillows. A walnut dresser was tucked away to the side of the room. The room was pretty, but you had bigger concerns. You identified the tall double windows. You wavered: would you have time to make a dash out the window?

 

“I wonder if (Y/N)…” a voice drawled from directly outside the door.

 

Your heart jumped, and your body lurched under the bed, just in time too.

 

The door burst open, “…is in here!”

 

You held your breath, smothering your mouth with your hands. You stared at his boots as he skipped around the room, far too cheerfully. How badly you wished you could have crawled into the bed, and awoken from a fitful nightmare in your raggedy sheets on your skimpy mattress and stiff bed frame. Even better, you would wake at home, and run to your mother and father to cry about your scary dream. You wished they would tell you it was just in your head. You wished you could hear them tell you that you were safe. Tears burned your eyes.

  
“Where could (Y/N) be?” He asked himself. _He knows I’m here, doesn’t he? Oh, God, he knows I’m here! You_ felt yourself quiver, involuntarily.

 

“Could she be…hiding in the dresser?” He made a show of flinging open the dresser.

 

“Or could she be—“ his boots stopped right in front of the bed. _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—_

 

“—under the bed!” He declared. Icy blue eyes stared into your wide tear-filled ones.

 

An unnerving, sadistic smile stretched across his face.

 

“Found you,” he whispered.

 

You shrieked as were dragged out by your ankles from your refuge. Whoever dragged you out, Faustus probably (the man was Alois’s right-hand man...demon?), dropped you unceremoniously on the carpet. 

 

Trancy stood over you a sinister smile on his face.

 

“I got bored of counting,” he said lazily, pacing around your form.

 

He suddenly stopped: “Why do you want to leave me so desperately?” He asked darkly.

 

You propped yourself up with your arms, attempting to sit up. Trancy shoved his foot down on your stomach, none too gently, slamming your back against the floor. You struggled for air, but found yourself unable to intake any. You gasped, attempting to breathe small breaths of air. Your back hurt and pain shot through your stomach where Trancy continued to press his heel.

 

“Bad maids like you ought to be disciplined for disobeying their masters.” He said coldly.

 

“I ought to punish you,” he pouted and crossed his arms, “but I love you too much to do that.”

 

Your heart sank. _Oh…that makes sense: that was why he was so clingy, that was why he was so scared about me leaving._

 

The acute pressure on your stomach was relieved, and you wasted no time in drinking in the air. The sharp stare of Faustus dug into you and buried itself in your skin.

 

Alois knelt over you. He threw his arms around you, squeezing you as though you might vanish from his grasp. Affectionately, he buried his face into your neck. His hair brushed against your face as he turned his head.

 

He breathed into your ear, ”I'm so glad you didn't leave." It wasn't like you could. "I felt so empty before, but now," he giggled, “now I have you.”

 

“And now that you're here, I won't ever let you go.” He grasped you tighter.

 

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing a complete fanfiction and my first time posting it or showing it to people for that matter. I spent a lot of time working on this one-shot, so I hope you like it. I did take historical liberties but tried to make it fairly historically accurate to the late 19th century. 
> 
> Please leave constructive criticism/encouragement and tell me about your thoughts on the one-shot.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to make this a one-shot, but I decided to make this multiple parts. Tell me if you’d like me to space out the first chapter because of this or leave it as a stand-alone.

He remained like that for some time with a grasp that you eventually noticed to be tremulous. It was then that pearly tears dripped onto your hair, your ear. Alois was crying again; his mood fluctuating forevermore. 

 

“Tell me…”

 

His grip repositioned itself around your waist as his face planted itself into your shoulder. You sat upright now, and he on your lap.

 

“Tell me what it is I want to hear,” his words came out thinly with a voice that threatened to betray him. “Tell me that you feel the same!”

 

And under the threat of the phantasmal butler that loomed starkly over you. You found yourself complying.

 

“I…love you, Alois.”

All restraint was lost on his part, and he disintegrated into full weeping. 

 

What was it you were supposed to do? In this one morning you had endured so much, and your experienced had left you gutted, exhausted. Tears wet your eyes; it wasn’t fair that he was the one who had the privilege of sobbing unrestrainedly. Why were you the one that had to be strong? Why were you the one that had to suffer under such misfortunate circumstance? Why were you the one that had to, for so long, rise before the sun and rest long after? Why you?

 

Why you?

 

His sobbing gave way lackadaisical dreariness and he could only manage to sniffle.

 

“Your Highness, your breakfast has been prepared,” interrupted the shadow that stood silently in the room.

 

The two of you eventually deigned to ascend from the carpet. Tears left their hollow impressions streaked across the blonde’s face. 

 

Wordlessly, the three of you exited the room in an atmosphere that would be awkward had you not been more preoccupied with your kidnap.

 

Alois’s hand lingered on yours, gripping it as he pulled you with him.

  
Claude Faustus trailed him.

  
The tense silence continued all the way to the dining room. As he entered, the blonde was the first to break the silence, “All of you, leave.”

 

The silent servants that had gathered to wait on him departed, unfazed. They were quick to comply with their master’s unexpected demand. They hardly seemed to notice the changed dynamic between you and the master of the house, and if they did, they hardly appeared to care. 

 

They were like the toy automatons your little brother would play with; the realization struck you with a certain element of shock, and then harrowing sadness at the thought of your family. 

 

You would’ve followed his words as well had his grasp on you not tightened when you moved to pull away.

 

“Claude,” began he, with a severity in his voice, “I told you to leave. What are you doing standing there?” His voice was forceful, but lacking in the energy to rise to his normal levels of hysteria. “Go take her luggage to the chamber closest to mine.”

 

You swivelled your head to observe Claude as he bowed and formed the tail of the stream of servants that flowed out of the room. Dread thickened your saliva at the mention of your luggage. 

 

And then, just as silently as they had existed in the room before, the servants were gone.

 

Alois sat at the head of the table, having at last released you, and so you lingered hesitantly. You were unsure of how to behave: distant like the maid you were hired to be, or…? Well ideally, of course, you would leave, but until you got the chance to…

 

Doubt plagued your feelings; would you make it if you tried this time? He was alone right now after all. But you remembered with clarity how quickly Faustus had appeared to bar your path on the call of Alois. 

 

With this recollection came the uncomfortable memory of his supernatural qualities. Who was he exactly? 

 

_“Claude is a demon,”_

 

You shivered. That was surely some superstitious make-believe fantasy on the blonde’s part. But more pressingly, you don’t think you could handle failure this time around. Were you even desperate enough to leave without your luggage?

 

“Sit next to me.”

 

You took chair closest to him, reluctantly. 

 

His voice lowered menacingly, “I said sit _next_ to me, not over there!”

 

You reluctantly stood and dragged the ornate chair to be next to the blonde.

 

The situation was ridiculous, and you might’ve been able to acknowledge it under less grave circumstances. You, a previously well-off lady and prior maid, sitting next to the master in forced familiarity, and wearing your fine travelling clothes from before your father’s death…

 

You couldn’t help it as your eyes dampened. 

 

Unfortunately, it seems as though this did not escape his sight. 

 

“Oh!” He exclaimed. His melancholy mood was crushed under the joy blooming on his countenance. 

 

“Are you going to cry?” Alois queries with the most smug expression you had ever seen on him. He turns to face you fully, arms crossed.

 

“Come on, let’s see the stone maid finally crack.”

 

At his goading, you do “crack” and dissolve into sobbing that you cover with your hands and hunch over to hide—well to the best that your straightening corset allows you to, which is not very much. 

 

How very much you miss your family, how very much you miss your father, how very much you miss your life, your freedom! Oh, the misery!

 

The chair squeals as it is displaced. You are once more embraced as he sits on your lap. His seat and breakfast go woefully forgotten. 

 

“Don’t ever cry for anyone else. This I forbid of you,” whispers the blonde, and once you have started, the tears won’t stop. 

 

He breaks into a full confession, “Only _I_ will have your tears. Try as the world may to steal everything away from me, I will only laugh in its face.” 

 

And he does laugh—ecstatically—as you continue to weep at your tremendous misfortune.

 

“I’m rich! I took the whole of that revolting old man’s fortune! And now, I have you as well! I’ve won everything!” 

 

The concession from his past does pique your lingering curiosity, but only for as long as you can maintain it under the weight of your sorrow. 

 

He bursts into fits of laughter again. 

 

When his laughter dies down some, he speaks, “I don’t know why Claude hired you to be honest; it was so out of the blue! It’s the best decision he’s managed out of his whole life.”

 

In a grotesque surprise, he pries your hands from your face and licks away one of the tears on your face.

 

_Eugh._

 

“You won’t have to be a maid anymore,” he says with a tenderness you did not know him to be capable of, “it’s not so bad, right? You can life a life of luxury. I have the money to buy anything I so desire, and you’ll have the same privilege.”

 

With a gentleness that once more astounds you, he extracts his handkerchief and wipes your face, “You look so pitiful!” He laughs, amused, before replacing his arms around you.

 

“Aren’t you so lucky that I love you?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a complete fanfiction and my first time posting it or showing it to people for that matter. I spent a lot of time working on this one-shot, so I hope you like it. I did take historical liberties but tried to make it fairly historically accurate to the late 19th century. 
> 
> Please leave constructive criticism/encouragement and tell me about your thoughts on the one-shot.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
